


The Broken and the Lost

by ShadowPhoenixRider



Series: Walk on the Wild Side [15]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, The Broken Shore Aftermath, World of Warcraft: Legion Spoilers, hope you're ready for pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowPhoenixRider/pseuds/ShadowPhoenixRider
Summary: In the aftermath of the Broken Shore, Khadgar hasn’t heard word from Draggka, and he’s beginning to get worried.





	

They had failed.

Khadgar gazed at the growing reports with mounting despair. The casualties were phenomenal, and each list seemed worse than the last. Hundreds, probably thousands were dead, and many more missing after the failed assault on the Broken Shore.

The archmage cursed himself again for his mistakes in the Tomb of Sargeras. It had been all he could do to call the Alliance and Horde to arms, in a desperate hope that if they moved quickly enough, they could throttle the invasion before it got its roots down.

No. They could not.

They’d barely made a dent, and the demons carved into them in return. Champions and heroes from all cloths had had their numbers gutted; not even Tirion Fordring had been able to hold up against the Legion’s might, and it was only through the Light’s grace and the quick thinking of the Alliance hero Camdyn Morris that Varian Wyrnn had narrowly avoided a similar fate. Khadgar clung tightly to the small mercy.

But dark rumours were beginning to swirl. According to some of the reports on his desk, the Horde had apparently quit the field with no warning, leaving the Alliance undefended and almost crushed by the demons’ onslaught. Whispers of betrayal were starting to rise, fuelled by the said rumours, but Khadgar couldn’t believe them. He’d spent time with champions of the Horde; they placed so much emphasis on honour, and their rallying cry was ‘victory or death’; surely they wouldn’t have just left the Alliance to their fate. Not without reason.

Khadgar’s heart twisted tightly in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Thinking of the Horde invariably brought him to Draggka. They’d not spoken or even exchanged letters since he began his solo hunt for Gul’dan, but he knew the troll hunter well enough to know she would have answered the call to arms. She would have been at the Broken Shore. Did she manage to flee with the Horde? Was she one of the many cut down by the sea of demons? Was she wounded? Light above, was she in her death-throes, crying out for him as her life steadily ebbed away?

The archmage’s stomach churned, and he swallowed down the wave of fear, pain, and bile. Immediately it became crystal clear why he’d been reluctant to let anyone in close; the thought of losing the woman he loved in such a way threatened to rattle him down to his marrow, and for a moment, he wondered if he could go on. Had Khadgar doomed himself by giving his heart away to her?

The elder mage snorted, clenching his fists. No. Their time together had been all too brief, but he would not trade those moments with her away just for safety. He’d done it before, and paid the price. Besides, he knew very little, if nothing, about her and the Horde’s status. The Kirin Tor’s current partnership with the Alliance meant Khadgar had to rely on his own sources for news, and they’d given him all they could; some had even perished on the Broken Shore.

The not knowing was killing him.

“Archmage, sir?” A call from outside his study door broke him from his thoughts. “The Skyfire is making its way to Dalaran. They have many fel-injured onboard and Jaina requests your assistance and expertise when they arrive.”

“Understood.” Khadgar replied, a plan starting to form in his mind. “What time are they slated to arrive?” 

“An hour, sir. Maybe two. They’re flying against a headwind.” Came the reply. _Good, that’s plenty of time._

“Thank you. I will need some time to prepare, so I am not to be disturbed until they arrive. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir. I’ll let the others know.”

Khadgar waited until the footsteps faded away, before he began to cast a teleportion spell, casting his mind out to an orange desert, of tall rocks and termite mounds, and the great iron walls of the forbidden city, at least to his kind. He focused on a particular spot of the desert where he knew he would be hidden, and the archmage felt the entire world fall away for a moment as his spell completed, magic flaring brightly around him.

Then there was coarse sand under his feet, and a chill wind at his skin, but Khadgar was already tapping into Atiesh’s power, quickly launching himself into the night sky as a raven.

He knew that something was wrong as soon he was on the wing. Great torches had been erected on the roads leading to the main gate to Orgrimmar, and in the surrounding area, casting bright, flickering light over what had to be the gathering of the entire Horde. All the races were present, mostly mingling together as one, but Khadgar could see defined blocs of orcs, trolls and so on. They had clearly suffered as much as the Alliance had; few were unwounded, many leaning against their fellows to support them, and some were even borne on stretchers, healers attending to them.

Khadgar followed their gaze to a hastily constructed platform above the throng, where the leaders of the Horde were clearly in attendance. As he flew closer, the mage saw they were standing around the unmistakable shroud of a body, and his heart all but stopped as he took stock of who was there. All the races were represented, but Thrall ( _Go’el,_ he reminded himself) was present, instead of-

_No._

Sylvanas Windrunner turned to speak to the assembled crowd then, and the mage was sure a hush would have fallen over them, if it hadn’t already been present.

“Vol’jin is dead!” Her unearthly voice rang out across the desert, and Khadgar heard some heart-broken wails lift from some of the Darkspear trolls. His own heart sunk in his feathery chest. “In his dying breath, he named me Warchief.” She lifted her chin, and the archmage felt a chill at how much the gesture reminded him of Alleria. “Who among you will help me avenge him?”

The roar that came from the Horde shook the air, and Khadgar felt that their cries alone could keep him aloft without a single wingbeat. They were howls of a wounded beast, full of anguish, despair, and that of furious revenge, and despite himself, Khadgar felt his hollow bones fill with hope. From his time with Draggka, he knew that although the Horde tended to bicker amongst itself, it was a family of outcasts, and woe betide anyone outside of the circle who hurt them. He had no doubt that the Horde would be eager for blood for their fallen leader, and to redouble their efforts against the Legion. _Good. We cannot lose hope now,_ he thought to himself.

Khadgar banked away at that thought, scanning the crowd as their yells gave way to their fatigue and grief, some beginning to disperse. Worry began to gnaw at him again as he looked for his hunter, building as the crowd shifted and moved and he still couldn’t find her. The occasional false positives made it worse, and he had to resist the urge to clack his beak or curse in frustration.

It was only when he reached the peripheries did the avian archmage spot a familiar trio; a pair of red-haired trolls and a red scaled raptor around their legs. Khadgar’s heart somersaulted in relief to see Draggka alive and seemingly no physically worse for wear, even as she leaned against her older brother, his arm over her shoulders to hold her close. A great weight lifted from him at the knowledge she’d not lost her loyal companion nor her brother either. _We’ve lost enough people today._

The mage dropped as low as he dared towards them, and clapped his wings together, the only thing he could think to try and attract attention, without being too obvious. To his relief, Spike immediately lifted his head and saw him, uttering a soft grunting bark to alert the siblings.

They glanced up, and words were quickly exchanged between them before Dranka sprang into the air, his lanky arms splaying out into wide bat wings, body bending and contorting into shape. He lacked Khadgar’s agility, but his large wings allowed him to join the raven mage in only a couple of wingbeats.

“Come.” The bat-druid spoke. “Sistah be following us. Know a place ya won’t be seen.”

Khadgar nodded, flying in the wake behind the druid and trusting his night-sight to guide them away from the gathering and into the blackness of the desert.

“Here.” Dranka spoke, fluttering down to land on a small outcropping of rocks, which formed a kind of half-cave shelter from prying eyes. “I be watchin’ for danger. Take as long as ya like.”

“Thank you, Dranka.” Khadgar said, transforming back to human just before he landed, his boots kicking up a spray of sand. “I, I’m sorry for-”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” The druid replied, shuffling awkwardly on his large wings and stubby back legs. “Not ya fault.”

 _But it is._ The archmage thought bitterly, watching Dranka take wing again, flapping away to leave him and Draggka alone. He turned to see the hunter round the corner, Spike at her side, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Her armour was battered and worn, with deep, fresh scars in the plating on the mail. The far-off torches didn’t give enough light to see if she had any new bruises (and he wasn’t sure if her regeneration wouldn’t have healed them already) but she had no obvious wounds aside from bandages he could glimpse through the broken sections of her armour.

“Draggka-” He began, but he was swiftly interrupted by the troll’s single, sorrowful utterance.

“Khadgar!” She closed the gap between them in barely two strides, throwing her arms tightly around him as if frightened he would evaporate at the slightest provocation. Khadgar hugged her just as tightly, letting Atiesh fall to the ground hold her properly, careful of the bow on her back. Spike curled himself around both their legs as well, rumbling softly.

And then she cried.

It was a wail, the beginnings of a lament of a shattered woman, and Khadgar’s heart broke, tears burning at his own eyes as the hunter he’d known to be so strong, able to weather the fiercest of storms seemed to fracture apart, clinging to him as he were the only piece of driftwood that would save her from drowning.

Sobs wracked her body enough that Khadgar wondered if her legs were going to give way, the thought making him hold her ever closer, tucking her head under his.

“I’m so sorry…” He murmured, the words feeling so pathetic and inadequate he almost wished he could stuff them back into his mouth.

Draggka hadn’t just lost her admired Warchief. She’d lost her Chieftain, the leader of her very tribe. Vol’jin had _been_ the Darkspear, for all he’d heard from her. It was his strength that had guided the tribe through Garrosh’s reign, and it was his leadership that had turned them against their revered ancestors, the Zandalari. He’d been a legend, for all intents and purposes, both to the Horde and Alliance.

Now he was gone. Who would lead Draggka’s people now? Khadgar had never asked, but the troll had never spoke of a successor, not of children, nor of equally strong second-in-commands. It was almost as if no-one had even thought it was an outcome…

The mage felt wetness trickle down his cheek, and he realized his grief was leaking through. Much like when a wound only begins to hurt once it is observed, the enormity of the emotions suddenly struck him, turning his lungs to stone. Draggka’s bright amber eyes, her wide, beautiful smile, the rich Zandali accent that clung to her voice when she spoke Common, and he could have lost it all. In his mind’s eye, he saw their last day together, of him promising to meet her after Gul’dan’s defeat, that they would begin to properly further their relationship, of even hoping for peace to start to settle between the two factions.

Instead, he had failed to stop the warlock, and now hundreds lay dead and his lover wept in his arms, her Horde and tribe devastated. If he’d just been quicker, if he hadn’t dithered, if he’d just killed Gul’dan when he’d had the chance, none of this would have happened.

The archmage’s breath shuddered when he inhaled, struggling to keep his own pain inside when it was oozing out from between his fingers. Someone had to be strong in the midst of all this misery and despair. Khadgar had to regroup the nations, find another way; the Legion would not wait, would not allow them to mourn.

Yet all he wanted to do was hold Draggka and never let her go, and despite himself, Khadgar felt his whole body shudder with his own sobs of injustice and anguish. The war against the Legion had barely began and already so many were dead, and he felt awful for coming apart when he should have been Draggka’s port in a storm, yet trying to stop it was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with only his bare hands.

Draggka shifted against him then, and he lifted his head to see her looking up at him, eyes red and puffy, her cheeks covered in dark streaks. He noticed that some of his raven feathers were still tucked into her hair braids; they were ragged, singed and one was broken entirely, but it gave him a strange sliver of comfort to see she still had them.

“I…I failed.” Khadgar croaked out, his voice thick like tar. “I’m sorry.”

She reached up to him, gently cupping his cheek. Despite the situation, the feel of her calloused fingers against his skin sent pulses of warmth through him, and he leaned into her touch, letting it soothe him slightly.

“Da Legion killed dem. Not you,” she said quietly. “Ya did ya best. Dat’s all ya could do.” Her hand drifted to the back of his head, urging him down so their foreheads touched. “You came back to me.”

Something in her voice made a hard lump form in his throat, and the archmage had to swallow past it to speak.

“I promised I would never leave you alone again,” he said, and despite everything, a brief, small smile found its way onto his lips. “I needed to know you were alive. Nothing was coming through.” He closed his eyes, squeezing her closer. “Thank the Light and your Loa for keeping you safe. And Spike, and your brother.”

“Dey kept ya safe too.” Draggka whispered. “I coulda lost ya in dat tomb too.”

The thought chilled Khadgar down to his bones. He remembered clawing at debris and the frantic flight across the sea, demons snapping at his tail feathers. So easily he could have met his end there with no-one to know but Maiev. Or worse…Khadgar shoved aside the memories of his brief return to Karazhan; now was certainly not the time to think of it.

“I promised you I’d come back in one piece,” he said instead, wiping away the tear tracks under her eyes. Khadgar sighed. “I’m sorry Draggka, but I can’t stay for too much longer. I will be needed in Dalaran soon, and…and…” He closed his eyes. “My love, I am loathe to ask this of you in a time like this, but…I need you to join me in Dalaran at some point.”

“Why?” The troll asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“I need your help to convince the Kirin Tor to readmit the Horde back into their ranks.” Khadgar explained. “Some will not agree with this position, and it is a…controversial thing to ask now. But now I see we face a far greater threat than I ever imagined, and we must be at our full strength to overcome it. I…I need you as a witness from the Broken Shore, to tell the Horde’s side of the story. To be a testament to your people’s valour and honour, despite-.” The mage glanced away. “I’m sorry. You’ve barely had time to mourn and I…”

There was a pause.

“Dey tink we betrayed dem, don’t dey?” Draggka said quietly. Khadgar felt his heart cringe painfully, and he could only nod. The troll let out a cry; a Zandali curse by the sounds of it. “Why? Why did I not fire da flare! Why we not give a warning?!”

“Hey hey, Draggka.” Khadgar soothed, Spike rumbling nearby. “You did your best in your situation. And you came home alive. That’s the main thing. There is no honour in death.” She glanced up at him. “I know, it’s everything the Horde stands for, but-”

“No, I know.” The hunter swallowed hard. “Dat…Dat be what Vol’jin…” She shook her head. “Dere be no honour dying dere. Our deaths gotta mean someting.”

“I agree. I need your side of the story. We need the whole story. A world at war with itself cannot stand against the Legion for long.” The archmage nuzzled his head against hers, sighing. “I wish I didn’t have to ask you this.”

“Needs must whilst da demons drive.” Draggka replied. “I know.” She returned his touch with her own, before pulling back, standing up to her full height, Spike returning to her side. “Call me, and I will come.”

A weak smile flashed across Khadgar’s lips.

“I can do a little better than that.” He reached into his bag, taking her hand and placing a small stone into her palm. “A hearthstone, tied directly to Dalaran.” He explained, as she turned the dark stone over in her hands, examining the pink Kirin Tor symbol embossed into its surface. “Use it when my servant contacts you, and I’ll meet you where I bound it. We repositioned the city in the area of Deadwind Pass to defend the Eastern Kingdoms, just above Karazhan. It seemed a wiser option than leaving it alone in Northrend.”

“Won’t I be thrown out?” Draggka asked, whilst Spike gently picked up Atiesh in his mouth and offered it to the elder mage, who took it gingerly from him.

“No. You’ll be expected by then, and I’ll be with you if we’re challenged.” Khadgar replied. “You’ll have time. I have duties to perform when I get back , and getting a meeting will take some wrangling.” He took a breath. “I fear I will anger Jaina with this request, but we must do whatever is necessary to bolster our strength. I wish I saw an alternative that did not involve tearing open her wounds.” He smiled wryly. “Get some rest if you can, my dear. Keep Spike close.”

The raptor rumbled what sounded like an assent, and Draggka stepped forward to kiss him gently, Khadgar tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.

“I will,” she said as they pulled back, smiling sadly. “See ya soon, Khadgar.”

“See you soon, my love.” He managed a smile too, before he summoned his magic, teleporting himself back to Dalaran. As soon he felt himself coalesce back in his quarters, Khadgar hurriedly wiped his face on the back of his gloves and brushed off the desert sand that clung to his robes, hoping to hide the evidence of where he’d been. He’d cut it a bit fine; he’d only just finished when his door banged loudly.

“Archmage Khadgar, sir! The Skyfire is docking at Krasus’s landing!”

“I’m coming!” He called back. The young-old mage took a steeling breath, resting his hand on his door. _Alright. Here goes nothing.  
_

And he walked out into chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of the fanfics I have in my backlog, so alas, you will have to wait for me to actually finish writing the next one! (This is may or may not be a relief to you, depending how you felt about my fics dogpiling into the various tags; sorry!)
> 
> Also, you know I said there'd be repercussions about linking with Galleywinter's canon? That's it. IDGAF any more Blizzard sorry (kill my Warchief off with a fucking handwave who the fuck do you think I am to just accept it even though I'm keeping his death because reasons). Expect more canon unravelling due to this.


End file.
